


Thing for an Angel

by Therg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therg/pseuds/Therg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean enjoys a bath, Castiel interrupts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thing for an Angel

Dean doesn't think liking baths makes him any less of a man. It isn't something he's ashamed of, they're his moment of respite from the colossal shit storm that the Universe seems intent to throw at him. It's just not a fact he openly advertises, that's all. And if he only indulges in them while Sam is out, he's not hiding anything - he just doesn't want to occupy the bathroom for too long. Whatever, Dean likes his baths. And they're by far not the least masculine thing he's indulged in recently.

They're just unbelievably gratifying.

Take now, for instance. He's lying back in the tub, one foot dangled casually over the edge and his head pillowed against one of the motel's surprisingly soft, fluffy, towels. The hot water surrounding his weary body just feels _unbelievably good_ ; he's washing away all of the dirt, angst and troubles that seems to inundate his every waking moment. He welcomes the feeling of utmost relaxation, letting it flow down his body, through his limbs, imagining it cleansing him of all the hate and evil that has surrounded him recently, letting it lull him into a dreamy peace.

He's so relaxed that he doesn't flinch at the soft fluttering of wings, doesn't even open his eyes. Resolutely refusing to let anything break his bubble of quiet, perfect, calm.

He doesn't do anything as calloused fingers slowly brush his shoulders and stroke up his neck, tangling gently in his hair, their owner letting out a soft mewl of contentment. They caress his scalp, massaging it softly, and if he weren't so chilled out right now Dean thinks he'd be moaning, it feels _so good_. The hands leave his head briefly, scooping up some water to pour it, _oh so gently_ over Dean's grime greased hair, careful not to spill any over his face. There's a soft noise of a bottle being opened, and then Dean recognizes the scent of lavender and has to bite back a groan. He knows even without opening opening his eyes that it's lavender shampoo; it's the same scent he smells when he's curled up in bed with Cas, the angel's back tucked flush against his chest. Sometimes Dean will bury his face into Cas' hair and try to memorize the way he smells, memories to help him get through the dark nights alone.

The hands are back, massaging the soap into a lather on his hair, and Dean lets them relax him further, his eyes still shut. He doesn't even open them as he's softly manhandled down, allowing his head to be gently tipped back. Water splashes over his face as the soap is washed from his hair, and he shuts his eyes tighter against the offending droplets. The hands are done now, no longer washing or stroking, just supporting his head and keeping his face out of the water.

Dean takes the hint and leans forwards, rubbing hands over his face to chase any water and soap away from his eyes. He finally opens them as the water ripples and a body slides into the tub behind him, legs sliding alongside his. He lets himself be pulled back against a firm chest and relaxes himself against the body, leaning back to kiss Castiel's cheek before letting his chest rest lazily on the angel's shoulder. Strong arms wrap around him and Dean is suddenly, impossibly, even more content and relaxed.

"Hello, Dean." The words are quiet, not breaking the calm surrounding them, and Dean purrs at the way the angel's chest vibrates against him when he speaks.

He doesn't answer, he doesn't have to; he gives himself over to Castiel's wandering hands. They caress slowly down his chest, and Dean moans when clever fingers tweak his nipples, brushing over his stomach to his hipbones, gripping them gently, thumbs massaging the sensitive skin. Castiel runs his fingertips over Dean's thighs and then his hands are slowly working back up Dean's torso, fingers swirling over pliant muscular flesh, nails scraping exactly where he knows Dean loves them to. His hands work Dean's shoulders, massaging any remaining trace of tension out of the man's body, until he's moaning softly under the angel's touch. 

His hands journey south again, and it's an agonizingly slow journey. Castiel seems to know every little seemingly innocuous spot that makes Dean moan and sends shivers down his spine. The angel remade him piece by piece, it makes sense that he knows Dean's body even better than he does. When the hands finally reach his waist, Dean bucks his hips lazily upwards but it's ignored, Castiel's fingers trail teasingly over his inner thighs and then up to swirl over his pointed hip bones. 

Changing tact slightly, Dean presses his hips backwards, grinding against the erection pressed against him. Castiel groans throatily and his teeth sink into Dean's neck, tongue lapping at his skin even while his teeth worry it. The angel thrusts against him and Dean gets a rush from feeling exactly what he does to Cas. But then there's a hand wrapping around his cock and another cupping his balls, and everything else is forgotten. 

They're teasing touches, still. The hand on his cock ghosts up and down his length softly and _oh-so-slowly_ , and it isn't enough. _Dean needs more_. He moves his hips round, in sure circular movements, pressing himself firmly against Cas' cock, grinding against it until the angel groans hot and heavy against Dean's ear.

"Dean." He knows what Cas is about to do, the downright filthy things he's going to say, and he moans at the sheer thought of it, "You're _so dirty_."

"Yeah, well. That's the point of the bath, Cas." His voice comes out wrecked, broken and breath hitching as the hand around his balls squeezes.

"You're so dirty," The angel continues, ignoring him, "And so impatient. I feel the way you're rubbing yourself against me, exhibiting yourself like one of those whores you love to fuck so much."

His voice sounds harder here, steeled, and Dean shakes his head against it, denying the words silently.

"It's true Dean, you're nothing more than a vulgar whore, you throw yourself at me and _practically beg_ me to fuck you."

Dean just moans, fingers gripping Castiel's strong legs, nails digging into flesh, and tries to thrust up into the hand gently encircling his cock, needing more; more friction, more pressure, _just more_.

"You love it when I thrust inside you, taking you for my own. You love it when I bite you, marking you as mine." Still, the hands touching him are so soft and gentle, _he needs more_. "You want me to do that now? You want my hard cock inside you, fucking you like a whore?"

"Cas... Yes, Cas." Dean feels he'll lose it soon if Castiel doesn't just fucking _do something_ , "Cas, _God yes Cas_."

The hand that was softly caressing his balls is gone, long fingers are now wrapped tightly around his throat and Dean is fighting for breath.

"Do not say that." Teeth bit down onto the soft juncture of skin at his neck and shoulder, "Do not say my father's name while we're doing - This." The edges of his vision are starting to blacken and fog, "This is a _disgusting, filthy_ human thing. I will not allow you to taint His name with your smut."

The pressure on his throat is gone, and Dean collapses against Cas, utterly boneless, air comes gasping into his lungs. Castiel's fingers caress his neck, softly and tenderly, an odd juxtaposition against the heat and lust in his voice as he moans into Dean's ear, "You've corrupted an angel. Isn't that enough for you?"

His hand tightens around Dean's cock, _finally_ , and his thumb slides through the slit at it's head, teasing. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear you beg for me."

Normally, that's the sort of thing that Dean wouldn't be seen dead doing, but right now he just needs it, needs Cas. His cheeks blush and fingers tighten on the angel's thighs, "I _want you_ , Cas. Want you inside me."

"Mm, which part of me?" And damn, _angels are dicks_. He sounds unfairly cool and unbelievably filthy.

"Your fingers. And then your cock. Want your hard cock inside me, fucking me." Dean chokes back a moan as there's slick fingers pressing at his entrance, _thank God for baby oil_. "I love it when you fuck me, love feeling so stretched and used by it."

"Fuck yes," Castiel agrees, pressing two fingers all the way inside Dean, "You love being used you filthy little bitch." There's the barest of seconds, the briefest of stretching, before Castiel is forcing another finger inside the man, "You're such a good little whore. And such a dirty mouth, remind me to wash it out with soap if you misbehave."

Dean just moans, begging Castiel but unable to find the brain power to form sentences, "Please... Cas. _Fuck_."

The water swirls and churns, and Dean finds himself on all fours, holding himself up on the side of the bath, Castiel's warm body pressed against his. He feels the blunt pressure of Cas' cock pressing against his entrance and moans, dropping his head down to rest on his arm. Fingers tangle in his hair, and his head is pulled up sharply.

"Stay with me here, Dean. _Don't you dare go anywhere_ "

The idea is so ridiculous that Dean is totally ready to spit out one of his many witty comebacks, but they're ripped from his lips as Castiel suddenly slams his hips forwards, sheathing himself inside Dean _entirely_ in one smooth movement. He groans, fingers gripping the ceramic of the tub so hard that he expects to be able to see his fingerprints there later. He might even be seeing stars. If that wasn't ridiculously girly.

Castiel's thrusts are harsh, bruising, and Dean doesn't think he'll be able to walk straight for a week. At least. He loves the idea of that, just like he loves the way that the angel can't seem to stop the _downright filthy_ words pouring from his mouth.

"So bad Dean. Filthy." Somewhere between his thoughts of _fuck so good_ and Oh God. Please God, Cas. Dean is pleased to note that the angel also appears to be having trouble stringing sentences together.

"You make me do this. You do this to me; _you corrupt me_ " And that is so unbelievably hot. And it shouldn't be. Dean knows he's going to hell. Again.

"And you love it, don't you Dean? You love debasing _an Angel of the Lord_ like this." Cas' hands are gripping him so tightly, one wrapped around his hipbone and the other grasped around his shoulder, using the hold to pull Dean back against him when he thrusts forwards, fucking himself unbelievably deeply inside the man, making them both cry out.

"Is it just a thing for angels you have? I know you fucked Anna." Dean can feel the hurt and hesitation in Cas' voice here, _old wounds, never to fully heal_ , and it hurts him, but Castiel doesn't stop. "Is it just another sick fetish of yours? Any angel you can get? I'm the only one stupid enough to actually fall for you?"

The double meaning behind that hurts Dean's heart, it really does.

"It's those pretty cock sucking lips of yours, you had me lost to the world of your sin the moment you kissed me." Castiel is thrusting inside him _so hard_ and _so fast_ , his cock brushing against Dean's prostate on every deep drive inside. It's making his world spin.

"You should whore yourself out to all the angels. I'm sure they'd love that. Not as much as you would though, you're such a _fucking slut, Dean Winchester_." Dean would love to protest, but the way he's moaning and fucking himself on Cas' cock isn't particularly productive to a counter argument, plus he doesn't want it to stop. God no. He wonders if Cas has any idea how unholy hot he is. The fingers wrapped around his body tighten, and the thought of the bruises they'll leave just pushes Dean closer to the edge.

"Tell me you're mine, Dean." Castiel's voice sounds raw, broken and vulnerable. "Please... Want. Need. You, _mine only_."

"Fuck yes Cas, fuck yes. Just yours. Only you, please." Castiel's hand is on his cock, pumping hard and fast and Dean knows he's going to come, words spilling out of his mouth unchecked, "Love you so much. Just you. Only ever you. _Castiel_." His orgasm hits him in a rush, rips through him and leaves him shaking and breathless, held up by Castiel and his own slipping grip on the side of the bath.

Castiel doesn't last much longer, biting bruises into Dean's shoulders, back, neck, anywhere he can reach. He cries out as he comes, almost sobbing, "Mine. You're mine. Dean.... _He's mine_." The last words are whispered so softly, that if they weren't right against Dean's ear he thinks he'd have missed them.

The fall back into the lukewarm water of the tub together, sweaty but sated. Castiel wordlessly picks up a washcloth and slowly washes Dean again, his fingers tracing the marks left by his teeth and fingers. Pressing into the bruises until Dean moans and graps his hand, pulling the angel close to his chest.

"Yours." He kisses Castiel, chaste but loving. "Mine."

Castiel just smiles and stands, stepping out of the tub and tugging on Dean's hand.

Dean follows, slowly, stiffly. He's sated and sleepy, his movements a little clumsy. He lets Castiel wrap him in a towel and dry him. He even lets Castiel put him to bed and tuck him in. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, just gazes at the angel pleadingly, and Cas slips into bed behind him. Strong arms wrap around Dean and he feels so protected and safe, he tangles their legs together in wordless thanks.

He's fast asleep by the time Sam returns, but Castiel isn't. And he doesn't miss the soft smile that's shot their way. He just smiles back, tightens his hold around Dean, and presses his face to the man's hair; memorizing the smell for memories, for the time he has to leave, for the time Dean doesn't want him anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally archiving my older work here, hope you enjoy!


End file.
